


The Ghosts of Our Sins

by MickMackNickNack



Series: The Far-Ling Chronicles [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Chess Metaphors, Corruption, Culture Shock, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Espionage, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, I gave up on this one hahaha, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Instability, Multi, Serious Injuries, Underage Drinking, War, abandoned, camouflage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2020-07-31 10:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20113423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickMackNickNack/pseuds/MickMackNickNack
Summary: War has come.  Heavily guarded family ties are being revealed.  Secrets are being exposed.  Hierarchies are being toppled.  The world of Arda is in turmoil, but it can yet be saved.  Four students from the School for Good and Evil are kidnapped and taken to Mordor, and they may become one of Arda’s only hopes for survival…





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anomalousGreenhorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousGreenhorn/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the rewrite... 
> 
> If you read the tags, you figured out that it lives up to its rating. Anyway, here's the prologue.

“Who in here’ll take the job, eh?” the man crowed, hefting a large sack of coins into the air. A rowdy cry went up through the tavern. Outside, thunder rumbled through the air, following lightning quickly and mercilessly. 

The door fell open in tune with the thunder and a dark-cloaked figure stalked inside. Silence blanketed the cramped room. The figure lifted their hands and pulling down their hood revealed the face of an Orc. His amber eyes searched the room languidly, then reaching his prey he smirked, showing jagged, yellow fangs. 

“So. Heard you got a job?” He tilted his head. The man who had first spoken nodded frantically. 

“What is it, then?” 

“One of the high ups i-in…well…” The man trembled, his earlier confidence gone. 

“Spit it out, boy!” the assassin snarled, eyes flashing. 

“Fine! So it’s one of them up in Edoras, you know those? The ones I’m talking about?” the man whimpered. 

“Yeah. How much?” 

“T-two th-thousand.” The assassin’s smirk grew only wider, and he laughed. 

“I’ll take it.” 

With that, he was gone. 


	2. Lies Told In Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron thinks about many things, Agatha gets the shock of her life, and Sophie finds out something she never expected to find out about Ravan.

_ Fate, despite what is said often, is a fickle thing. It can change as easily as the atmosphere of a bar. But nothing changes fate quite like war, especially the kind of war where no one can _ ever _ win, _ Sauron thought sourly, turning a dagger over in his hands. His fate had been decided already. His death would have happened within the next year, his _ hröa _destroyed in one fell swoop. Unfortunately, that was no longer his lot. 

Now he was stuck in Middle-earth for what would appear to be an eternity. If he succeeded, the rest of Middle-earth would consider him their ally, Arda would survive, and he would keep on living for the rest of forever. If he failed, however, he would die, the kingdoms of Middle-earth would be enslaved, the Valar destroyed, and everything anyone in the world had ever worked for would be destroyed. Wonderful choices, really. Just wonderful. 

Sauron growled and tossed the dagger across the room. Why, _ why _was Mandos so determined to bend his destiny out of shape? Was Eru so determined to make him miserable that he had turned to throwing incompetent children at him? He stood, stormed across the room, picked up the dagger, and hurled it at the opposite wall with a horrible screech. It embedded itself in the wall, a sore reminder of the high stakes at hand. 

_ My lord? _Fauthagon’s gruff voice pulled him from his reverie. He sighed. 

_ Yes, Fauth? _His mental voice sounded weary even to his own ears. 

_ I found her. Celestella Morningstar, that is. I still do not know where she had come from. _Fauth’s voice sounded stiff and exhausted. 

_ Good work. Get some rest. _ He felt Fauthagon’s presence leave his mind and sighed again, preparing to yell at someone for _ something. _  
  


**-oOo-**

_ Very deliberately, as if aware it had Agatha’s attention, the Storian pointed at the storybook and a tiny circle of orange glow spooled from its tip like a smoke ring. _It hovered over a painting, highlighting the fourth years in the corner of the room--

No. It showed someone standing there who _ wasn’t _ there. An incredibly tall man with large, pointed ears, curly black hair streaked with red highlighting silver horns, his eyes vivid blue, skin ghost-pale, white fangs bared in an eerie grin. Agatha spun just as this same man materialised out of nowhere. “Well, well, well,” he purred, voice a smooth bass. “Looks like my…choices were well made. So where is this _ Lion? _” 

Agatha’s blood chilled.   
  


**-oOo-**

Sophie sat silently in the Map Room. _I won’t waste another thought_ _on that vile, blockheaded…_numbskull! She took a deep breath and stared at the wall for a moment before someone gave a sharp knock at the door. 

“Your highness, the king has ordered me to escort you to the meeting,” someone, probably a guard, said. 

She sighed and stood. “I’m coming.” 

The meeting room was full of the leaders of the Woods. Sophie felt their stares searing her skin, viciously eviscerating her, mentally ripping her to pieces and burning the remains. She felt a scream bubble up inside of her but covered it with a demure smile directed at Rhian. _ Not a thought, _she promised herself. 

“Ah, Sophie. How good to see you!” Rhian said, his voice carrying an almost indetectable mockery. 

“Ah, Rhian. The pleasure is all _ mine. _” Sophie heard a quiet, throaty laugh from one of the leaders. 

She sat down next to Rhian and looked out at the leaders. Each had an inscription with their title and kingdom on it. _ Queen of Jaunt Jolie, King of Thicket Tumble-- _

Wait. Where had she heard that before? It had been someone she knew…

_ “...hasn’t had a king in five years. I intend to fix that…” _

No. It couldn’t be. Yet it was; from the way he sat, the surly scowl, the _ hair _. No other boy she knew looked like that. 

_ Ravan. _Finally, an ally! She felt like singing all of a sudden, but smashed the urge deep down and caught Ravan’s eye. He stared at her, then flashed a slight grin and stood, making his way over to her. 

“Well, well, well,” he purred, dark eyes glinting. Rhian looked startled for a fraction of a second and then masked it with a tense smile. “It’s good to meet you at last. When I heard of your…rising up, as it were, I almost thought I had found an equal.” Sophie stared at him, suddenly feeling cold. 

“I look forward to meeting you in a less volatile situation,” Rhian replied tersely. Sophie’s posture stiffened. 

“We’ll see about that.” With that, he was gone. Rhian scowled at her.   
  


“And just _ what _does he know?” Rhian snarled, eyes flaming. 

“Now, don’t get angry, _ darling, _he’s merely an acquaintance from school!” Sophie gave him a reassuring smile. 

“_ Merely an acquaintance? _ The Demon King, a _ mere acquaintance? _If you turn him against me, I swear I’ll have your head--”

“Oh, you know full well you won’t do that! You need me or the Nevers will never listen to you!” she scoffed. 

“If you turn him against me, Tolke rains down on our heads.” 

Sophie froze. “_ Who _rains down on our heads?” 

“I’ll explain later,” he snapped. Sophie sensed the conversation was over and turned around. Looking out at the leaders of the Woods, she listened to them and Rhian talk with a burning feeling in her stomach. 

_ Crackle! Whish! Pop! _She was stirred from her thoughts as the King of Foxwood burned the ring on his finger and the Queen of Jaunt Jolie followed. 

A roar of fury reverberated throughout the castle and everyone in the room winced, then went back to their talking. Then a blast of fire shook the room, sending screaming rulers stampeding for cover. 

The fire twisted in shape and crystals of ice cracked through, jagged stone swirling. Crows burst into existence before disintegrating into ash and feather that formed into hair dark as blood spilt and streaked the newly formed hair with red, ice melting into royal blue eyes, white marble turning to lean muscles and everything else congealed into clothing. Enormous black wings ripped through the clothing and iron claws tapped the chin of a man so beautiful it hurt to look at him. 

“Hello, Rhian? The name’s Melkor, in case you haven’t heard of me,” he cackled, showing white fangs. Melkor turned to Rhian and placed a hand on his heart. “Just so you know…” he purred, eyes glinting, “your whole speech to your _ darling _fiancée? Oh, he’s ahead of you, sweetheart.” The man jerked his thumb at Ravan, who smirked, flashing vicious fangs. 

“I never served you, therefore I cannot betray you. With that out of the way, I sent word to a few relatives we’d be needing their help,” Ravan sneered, dark eyes glinting. 

Rhian curled his hands into fists. “What can these relatives do, exactly? They’re in another world--” 

“Oh no, darling,” Melkor purred moving to stand directly in front of Rhian, towering over him by several feet. “They’re already _ here _.” 

With a bang, the room vanished and Sophie screamed, falling into an abyss--

  
An abyss of _ time. _

_ A woman with soft brown eyes and freckled skin hurriedly speaking to a cloaked man. “Mai, you must make sure no one sees you or the children--” _

_ “I know.” His voice was a deep rasp, and he was holding a small girl to his chest. With his other hand, he was clinging to a young boy, whose sobs seem a bit too loud… _

_ A young woman holding a bow aimed at a stag. She shoots and the stag falls to the ground… _

_ Two men hurriedly converse on a balcony, one blonde, the other dark and hideously scarred. _

_ A strange creature telling a woman clutching a baby to run. She does, but she does not escape. _

_ An assassin claims a job and feels pride. They thought he was _ ** _weak. _ ** _ Ha! _

_ Ink spills from a pen onto a page, spelling out ‘There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made…” _

Sophie fell forward into darkness and pain and felt no more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations: 
> 
> hröa: the physical body. The Ainur (Sauron's species) can disembody and shapeshift, hence why he says his hröa will be destroyed.
> 
> TELL ME WHAT THOU THINKEST! *evil grinning*


	3. In Chaos Comes Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Melkor begins to invade minds, the assassin begins his journey.

Fire was all he could feel. The fire was in his veins, burning his skin, breaking him, twisting his mind and soul, over and over until he was yanked back to his life. “Bloody void,” was all Lurtz could say. Uglúk gave him a lazy grin. 

“You two,” Mauhúr grumbled fondly. He pressed closer to them and pressed a kiss to his mate’s ear. 

“Mau!” Uglúk hissed, kicking the other Uruk in the shins. 

  
“What’d I do, love?” he asked, now twisting a lock of Lurtz’s hair in between two clawed fingers. 

“Enough, both of you,” Lurtz rumbled. He gave them a glare and sat up. They did so as well, Uglúk watching him closely. The healer was known for being very observant; he had to be. The Uruk-hai of Isengard did not express pain verbally. 

“What is it?” Uglúk was watching him even as he said this. Lurtz sighed and looked down. What troubled him was…complicated. He could still feel the fire from earlier raging inside of him and despite his exhaustion, he found he could not sleep. 

“I felt like I was burning, earlier.” Mauhúr snorted. “Not burning like I want to fuck, stupid,” he snarled. 

“Really?” Mauhúr snickered. 

“Fuck’s sake, Mauhúr! I mean when I came, you stupid grunt!” Lurtz growled, now about ready to strangle the other Uruk. 

“Now that’s just fucking weird. Who feels like they’re burning when they’re coming? Unless, of course,” Uglúk purred, “they want more.” 

“It felt like actual fire.”

“Actual fire? That’s even weirder.” Uglúk gave him a long stare.

“Not really.” Mauhúr’s voice was quiet and serious. 

“What is it, love?” Uglúk asked. 

  
“The _ snaga _say that the First Dark Lord could split his powers and give a portion of them to people of his choosing.” His eyes were cold and hard. 

“So this Dark Lord up and decided to unload a shitload of power on some Uruk? Fucking Void, Mau.” Lurtz shook his head. “There is no way I believe that.” 

“Would you believe it if I did _ this _?” Mauhúr lunged forward and tackled the other Uruk to the ground, biting hard on his neck and kicking his legs apart. Baring his teeth, Lurtz launched himself up. In a single manoeuvre, he tucked his legs together and forced Mauhúr’s apart. “Shit, Stêorlêas!” Mauhúr hissed, so taken aback he used Lurtz’s full name. 

“How you like that, huh?” 

“A lot…” 

They soon were otherwise occupied and had no reason left to discuss difficult topics. No one noticed the way the dirt on the ground looked a lot like ash. No one, that is, but an unrealistically beautiful woman standing outside the door. 

**-oOo-**

Fauthagon scraped a knife lazily along a rock. _ Not so weak now, huh, Bitch? _he sneered internally. The human (or Bitch, as Fauth had crudely named him) trapped in his mind was afraid of him. Of course he was; he should be. Fauth was the most feared assassin in Mordor. If you heard he was after you, you either ran or accepted your inevitable doom. Either way, you died. 

He smirked. Bitch would never kill anyone. Never. He couldn’t handle it--

Fauth’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed backwards. Two sides began warring in his mind. 

_ COME OUT OF THIS STUPOUR! WAKE UP! YOU WERE NEVER WEAK! MY SON IS NOT WEAK! _The wolf in his head roared the words. 

_ You were weak…you will always be weak… _

_ I AM NOT WEAK! _ Fauthagon roared, the wolf joining him. _ I WILL NEVER BE WEAK! I AM THE MOST FEARED ASSASSIN IN MORDOR! WEAKNESS WAS NEVER A FUCKING OPTION, BITCH! I LOVE YOU BUT I AM NOT WEAK! OUT OF MY HEAD! NOW! _

A feral scream split the air and Fauth let out a triumphant roar, soaring to wakefulness. Wakefulness brought with it urgency. He needed to get out of here. Now.   
  


**-oOo-**

Ravan’s eyes opened to a familiar landscape. _ Mordor. _ A welcoming sight, to be sure, but not an attractive one. The land was devoid of foliage. It was seared black as far as the eye could see, only the occasional spindly shrub breaking up the desolation. In the distance, however, was the looming shadow of a mountain. _ The _mountain. Orodruin. 

But this was far from the most fearsome sight to be seen. No, no, that was Barad-dûr, the fortress of the Dark Lord himself. Rising from the ground to tower even over the mountain; it was a monolith of black stone and amber glass. 

To everyone who lived there, however, it was merely their home. 


End file.
